Call me Quasimodo

Hi there, from my boyfriend’s borrowed computer. Mine is still sitting quietly on its side, untouched. Tomorrow it goes to the computer doctor. I have mixed feelings of hope. It did not turn itself off or show other signs of distress before I shut it down and put it in “recovery position”, so that gives me some optimism. Yet (and I don’t mean this snarkily, it’s just true:) I have doubt that the local person who looks at my computer will try very hard to encourage me that it might be ok. To me, the Belgians – particularly the Bruxelloise – are known for terrible customer service, not listening to you and generally not giving a damn. They make Parisians look like kittens. I think he’s likely to automatically write it off at the least sign of damage. (I already spoke to him on the phone. He seemed to stop listening once he heard liquid on the computer. Well, to the minimal extent that he was listening in the first place.) But, again, perhaps the guy will prove me to be unfairly judgemental. I would love nothing more!

 Anyhoo….things are proceeding here. I can walk without major muscle discomfort for several minutes since I can stand a bit straighter. I don’t see it. I still stand up looking like there are taught strings running from my hipbones to my shoulders, drawing me into a hunch. But it feels a bit less awkward to move than it did. Yesterday my boyfriend called me Quasimodo, making me laugh so hard I could not stand up. (Seriously, when I laugh it tautens the stomach skin, pulling me into a 90 angle like there really are strings attached, which just makes everything funnier.) It was so fitting.

I am still limited and taking it easy though. Del is doing a smash-up job of taking care of me (as in “smashingly good”). What a quick learner and eager helper he is! Yesterday I was riled up to go to the pharmacy. (I had cabin fever and felt the need to personally confront the pharmacy about refusing to fill my pain med prescription.) Del escorted me as far as down the stairs and out the front door onto the street. The pharmacy is only a black away. But one look at the crowded Saturday street, full of people shopping before everything closes on Sunday, notorious for plowing others down without so much as a backwards glance, and we lost our nerve. We were both sure I was going to get whacked and pushed by the crowds. Right back into the apartment I went, glad to have at least had a breath of fresh air all the same. Next time I get on a computer I’ll tell you the surrounding pharmacy story, “The Hunt for Pain Meds in Europe”. It’s delightfully typical.

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Filed under breast cancer, humor, life, reconstruction ("upgrade"!), recovery, surgery, this time THIS year

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